Traces of June 12, 1898

The most challenging column topics for me recur every year: Independence Day (June 12), Bonifacio Day (Nov. 30) and Rizal Day (Dec. 30). While there are many sources and angles to write from, I have written about these already in the past 40 years. Fortunately, history has a long shelf life; there is a constant need and hunger for it.

Forty years ago, I was given three days to close an Independence Day supplement for the Daily Express. That was my baptism of fire, because I came in cold. Without a degree in journalism or mass communication, I learned on the job, mentored by editors in the newsroom and production staff. They knew how to physically lay a page out; all they needed was content and direction. I rushed my research, sourced the images, and filled the page with three short articles and covered the blank spots with archival pictures. At the top of the page, “Why June 12?” was a catalog of the different dates and events to ground Independence Day historically. In the middle, “Independence Day: Facts and Fallacies” was a collection of odd facts. For example, the iconic “Independence Balcony” in Emilio Aguinaldo’s Kawit home did not exist in 1898. It was added in 1919. The declaration was read from an open window fronting the street. At the bottom, I used a primary source text, “June 12, 1898: A journalist’s account.” In retrospect, these are the elements of my writing and teaching: open with a question, answer using primary source documents (quoting extensively when needed), and conclude with insights that underscore the continuing relevance of the past in the present.

Just when I thought I had exhausted all the sources and angles for today’s June 12 column, a material I had not used before turned up. On a recent visit to the National Library of the Philippines (NLP), I went through the gallery of treasures: the books, maps, and manuscripts that tell the story of how the nation came to be. I have done the rounds many times before, but on this visit, I was drawn to the vitrine where the original “Acta de la proclamacion de independencia del pueblo Filipino” is displayed. Each page has been stamped to document its retrieval from theft in 1994, an act of irreversible vandalism by an administrator, who added her name, in ink, to each page and history.

In a scribe’s flowing script, we read about a desire for freedom that goes way back in time to Kalipulako (Lapulapu) of Mactan in 1521 and leads to Kawit in 1898. Our flag is described, and the symbolism of each element explained. Surprisingly, red, white, and blue are colors that celebrate the assistance and protection provided by “the great North American Nation” (USA). In the last seven pages, there are 145 signatures of those who were present at the event starting off with: Jose Oliverez, Daniel Tirona, and Tomas Mascardo. Take note, all the signatories are men. Where were the women? Conspicuously absent is the signature of Aguinaldo! Where was he? Did he forget to sign? Or was it deliberate? Perhaps he did not agree with the document in whole or in part? Let’s leave that for next year’s column.

Important documents are usually made in duplicate, triplicate, and, to be very sure, quintuplicate. It is not well-known that the 1898 Declaration of Independence has a duplicate filed away in the “Philippine Insurgent Records.” Copied out by an inferior hand, it is signed by only 15 men. In the duplicate are prominent leaders: Baldomero Aguinaldo, Artemio Ricarte Vibora, Pantaleon Garcia, and two Marianos: Trias and Noriel. Daniel Tirona’s signature is found in both documents. Again, glaringly absent is Don Emilio. Historian Jim Richardson has saved us the task of counting and deciphering the names on both documents. By his count, there are 176 men who signed or are referenced in the declaration of independence. For a history nerd like me, the Independence document provides hours and hours of fun.

Also displayed in the NLP Treasure Gallery is a small printed date book, an 1898 calendar presented as a gift to loyal customers of “El 82,” the art supply store (tienda de pinturas) of Roman Ongpin, whose name honors the most popular street in Chinatown, Binondo today. On the calendar for June 1898, Aguinaldo wrote the word “ojo” (literally eye, but it is a command to “look”) beside June 12. It was a Sunday, the feast of Saints: Juan de Sahagun, Olimpio, and Onofre Anacoreta. A plenary indulgence was offered to those who would visit churches in Intramuros: either San Agustin or Recoletos. Then in the blank memorandum pages, Aguinaldo wrote in his distinctive scrawl:

“Ypinanaog ang Bandera nacional dito sa bahay ng nasirang Don Maximo Inocencio, patungo sa bayan ng Cawit o C[avite] Viejo para proclamahin ang aspiracion ng Yndep[endenci]a nitong Sang Kapuluang Katagalugan o Filipinas oras ng a las cuatro at dalauampung minuto ng hapon. Cavite a 12 June 1898.” If the Declaration of Independence is taken as the birth certificate of the nation, Aguinaldo provided the exact birth time—4:20 p.m.

(More next week.)